


Let Me Love You

by Lilyauden



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Forgiveness, Gen, Other, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyauden/pseuds/Lilyauden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Macklyn Warlow is a 5,500 year-old Faerie/Vampire hybrid; the oldest, strongest and most dangerously powerful of all living supernatural creatures, and the only one of his kind. One of the first progenies of Lillith, he was turned against his will and over time, grew to resent his Maker. After accidentally massacring his entire Faerie village (except for Niall Brigant), Warlow killed Lillith in a vengeful rage. He has wandered the Earth throughout the centuries ever since, never aging and always growing stronger and more powerful. Even so, he despises what he has become and continues to live a life of loneliness and solitude.</p><p>Until he meets an unsuspecting young woman, who could change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by the Ne-Yo song.  
> It actually inspires the theme of the story as well. 
> 
> "Much as you blame yourself, you can't be blamed for the way that you feel...  
> I can see the pain behind your eyes, it's been there for quite a while. I just wanna be the one to remind you what it is to smile. Let me love you, and I will love you until you learn to love yourself... a heart of numbness get's brought to life..."
> 
> This story is going to differ immensely from the tv series.  
> Basically, forget just about everything you know about Warlow...

 

 

_Screaming._

_That's always the first thing he hears._

_The agonizing screams of his terrified family. His entire village, frozen with fear._

_But he didn't even recognize them._

_They_ _didn't have time to react. He was too quick for them. They had been caught off-guard and were completely unprepared._

_Blood. There was blood_ _everywhere._

_Mutilated bodies turned into piles of ash before his eyes._

_He remembers the frightened face of a child, staring up at him._

_Niall._

_Even then, when the darkness inside him had completely over-powered his light, he couldn't hurt Niall. He just couldn't kill a child._

_"Will you ever forgive me?... Can you ever forgive me?"_

_They never stop screaming. Even after they've been turned to piles of ash and dust, he can still hear their screams._

_They grow louder and louder until it becomes unbearable and his ears begin to bleed..._

 

 

Warlow opens his eyes.

The room is dark, the clock by the bed tells him that it's nearly 4 a.m. 

_Another nightmare._

Suddenly, there's the loud thud of a bed's headboard hitting the wall; the unwelcome couple in the next room have started to howl like dogs in heat... again.

After a few seconds there's a pounding on their door; an angry guest yells at them to keep the noise down, but to no avail.

Warlow can't really blame the man for trying.

At one point even he had had difficulty restraining himself from barging into their room and ripping their throats out. But he wasn't planning on killing anyone tonight.

There's another loud knock on the door. A woman from another room has now joined the angry male guest, yelling at the door; _as if that will accomplish anything_.

Their love-making seems to be keeping everyone awake.

Sitting up, Warlow runs a hand over his face. Might as well get up now. He doubts he will get any more sleep tonight. 

He pulls on a pair of jeans, throws on a jacket and nearly forgets the key card to his motel room before he leaves. Technically he wouldn't really need it, he could just as easily get back into the room without it, but he takes it with him anyway. 

_Best not to draw too much attention._

Even though it's been nearly ten years since vampires were revealed to the rest of the world, he's been hiding what he is for over five thousand years. That's not a habit that is easy to unlearn, not that he would even want to.

In truth, he despises what he is. Having to admit that he is even part vampire still makes his stomach churn.

_Lillith._

His thoughts turn dark again.

_This is all because of her._

He will never forgive her for what she did to him; what she turned him into...

_...Enough! It's time I put her out of my mind._

Making his way across the nearly empty parking lot, Warlow heads for the woods with a warm summer breeze greeting him.

A trail marked, 'Lakeside view' is the path he takes.

Perhaps no one will disturb him there. 

 

 

As he makes his way through the woods, Warlow listens to the world around him.

It is almost completely silent.

He realizes he had forgotten how peaceful this time of night was; the last hour before the dawn.

Every creature of the night has made it's way to every burrow, every nest and every hiding place where it sleeps when the sun comes out, while the day-dwelling creatures haven't quite awakened just yet, still clinging on to the last moments of rest before a new day begins; and for a few brief moments, everything is at peace.

Warlow's footsteps hardly make a sound as he continues down the trail.

As he takes a few deep breaths, the scent of Pine, Aspen and Elm trees flood his senses. 

They are familiar scents, these earthy tones; warm and inviting.

Portland, Oregon. It's been a long time since he's been here.

Lately he'd been keeping to the south; Mississippi, Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Texas... and Louisiana. 

_Bon Temps._

That is the last place he wants to think about right now. 

_Niall... Sookie... Jason..._

Their names echo in his mind, still fresh in his memory. 

_The Stackhouse family._

He knows that he has done a lot of wrong by them. He accidentally murdered Niall's parents when Niall was just a child; and then, millennia later, he killed Corbett and Michelle Stackhouse, Sookie and Jason's parents. No matter what his true intentions may have been, they were all dead, and there was nothing Warlow could do to bring them back. 

Shaking his head, he sighs, disappointed with himself. 

 

 

It is around 4:45 when Warlow reaches the lake.

One of the many benefits of living as long as Warlow has, is the incredible amount of things that you can learn; like being able to tell the time without the aid of the sun or a wristwatch. 

Walking over to a large log, Warlow sits, crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares out at the water.

It is so calm and still that it almost looks like a giant mirror made of black glass. 

Warlow closes his eyes and quiets his mind, allowing his thoughts and worries to fade away...

And in this same moment, his life takes an unexpected turn.

 

 

There's a sound that breaks the silence.

Something that no human would ever have been able to hear.

A faint noise in the distance that is gradually getting closer.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Warlow concentrates, focusing in on what his ears are telling him.

_Footsteps._

_Soft soles hitting dirt and granite..._

_A fairly steady pace..._

Someone's jogging...  _at this time of night?_

As the jogger continues to get closer, they become easier to identify.

_Still another five hundred yards away._

_Such lightness on their feet... it can only be a woman._

_A young and fit woman, average in size, roughly one hundred and thirty pounds; her steps remain as steady and light as ever._

As she gets closer and closer, Warlow begins to wonder if he should stay in the open. The last thing he wants to be taken for is a vampire waiting for an unsuspecting human to come running by to feed on. 

Besides, he had fed late yesterday evening.

There is a Medical Examiner, Dr. Mike Dawson, at a local morgue that Warlow has known for nearly twenty-seven years that has been his supplier for human blood whenever he's been in the area.

But then suddenly, there's something else.

Something... _cold_.

_Something that isn't exactly alive..._

Warlow slowly stands, a low growl deep in his throat.

_Vampires._

_He can smell them, hear them up ahead._

_There's three. Three males._

_And they're waiting for her._

Without making a sound, Warlow heads further down the trail. 

It seems he'll be killing someone tonight after all.

 

 

Warlow stops about two hundred yards away from the vampires. He can see them waiting in the trees.

Fortunately they've been too distracted to notice him approaching.

He looks ahead, and as the female jogger rounds a bend in the trail, he gets his first glimpse of her.

She's as he expected.

_Average height; around five feet, four inches._

_An athletic, yet surprisingly curvaceous figure._

_Young, probably in her mid-twenties._

_Her long, dark brown hair is pulled up in a ponytail._

_And she is stunningly beautiful._

Warlow has seen countless gorgeous women in his incredibly long lifetime; he's bedded more than he could ever hope to remember, and all of them have had their own unique beauty, but there is somehow something different about this one. Something almost... exotic.

The more he watches her, the more drawn to her he begins to feel.

_It's strange..._

_The last woman who had stirred anything significant inside Warlow had been Sookie Stackhouse..._

But then his focus shifts back to the vampires. 

She's almost made her way to them, and they are preparing to pounce on her like wolves on a lamb.

_Not tonight boys. She is not yours to take._

Warlow is about to make his move, when the young woman suddenly stops.

She looks around with wary eyes, her body language is tense.

She's trying to hide it, but she's nervous.

_She must have spotted one of the vampires._

Noticing this, one of them (whom Warlow assumes to be the leader) steps out from the shadows. 

The young woman immediately takes a couple of steps back, but she keeps her eyes steady.

There's a fierceness, a fire in her gaze that Warlow finds intriguing, and impressive. 

"Hey beautiful. What's a cute thing like you doing out on your own?" the leader asks, mockingly.

The other two vampires have revealed themselves as well.

The young woman's expression is as cold as stone.

She answers, her voice steady despite her heavy breathing.

"Just out for a run. I gotta get to work early today."

"Aw, that's a shame. Wouldn't you rather have some fun with us?"

The other two vampires chuckle at this.

"Thanks." she responds flatly, "But I think I'll pass."

When the three vampire don't move, she continues.

"Listen guys, it'd be in your best interest if you left me alone."

This, however, has the opposite affect, as the vampires slowly begin to close in on her.

"...Come on, you know you want to."

"...Just a little taste."

"...Don't worry, it won't hurt..."

And before either of them can utter another word, Warlow is standing a few feet behind them.

Sensing his presence, the vampires turn to face him, clearly annoyed; yet, they've been startled and they are uneasy.

It's nearly impossible for a human to sneak up on a vampire, it can even be difficult for vampires to sneak up on each other; so the fact that neither of them could hear or sense Warlow approach has thrown them off.

While doing his best to keep from instinctively revealing his fangs, Warlow's eyes darken and he speaks in a calm yet menacing tone.

"Leave her alone." 

The vampires and the young woman look at him with perplexed expressions.

"Walk away now, while I let you. I'll only give you the one chance."

It's obvious that the leader of the group isn't too fond of being spoken to this way.

He bares his fangs and curls his fists.

"While you  _let_ us? Is that some kind of joke?"

The other two vampires take on offensive stances, itching for a fight.

Warlow remains unimpressed, almost bored.

"See, the thing is," the leader continues, "my boys here and I could easily break both your arms like little twigs."

The young woman has taken a few more steps back, but surprisingly she hasn't run away. She hasn't left Warlow behind to save herself.

She's staring at him, her expression full of worry.

The leader sneers.

"In fact, that might be a fun way to start this little dinner party."

Warlow smiles.

What happens next is so unbelievably fast, so quick that no human would have been able to see it with the naked eye.

The two smaller vampires attack at once with fangs fully exposed, lunging towards him with inhuman speed.

But Warlow is faster.

And he possesses the magical abilities of the Fae.

With both palms glowing brightly, Warlow throws two Faerie-light supernovas at the two smaller vampires, killing them instantly.

As the two bodies burst into clouds of ash, the third lets out a furious roar and runs at Warlow, ready to tear him to pieces.

But Warlow is ready for that.

Spinning to the side, Warlow grabs hold of the leader, wrapping his arms around his neck and shoulders, gripping him tight and stopping him in his tracks.

He brings his head down and calmly whispers in the leader's ear.

"I told you, only one chance."

With a frightening growl, Warlow buries his fangs into the exposed throat of the vampire and in one swift motion, tears off his head with ease.

As he drops the now-headless corpse to the ground, Warlow spits out a mouthful of blood and flesh.

Shaking his head, he chuckles.

_Stupid lifeless bastards._

 

 

With blood dripping down his chin, he turns to leave.

"W...wait!"

Warlow stops, but he's hesitant. 

"Wait."

He can hear the young woman slowly approaching him, but he keeps his back to her.

"How did... how did you just do that?"

Her voice is shaky, despite her attempt to sound unafraid, but it also has a tone of curiosity.

Warlow stares ahead, remaining silent. 

The young woman is closer now, but she stops.

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone about this if that's what you're worried about."

Still, Warlow says nothing.

They stand there for a moment, neither of them speaking.

The young woman sighs.

"Look, you just saved my life. Can I at least thank you for that?"

Warlow turns his head slightly, making sure to keep his face in the shadow.

The young woman starts to cautiously move towards him again.

"Please don't!" he snaps, it sounds harsher than he means it to.

She stops.

He takes another step further away from her.

"You just killed three vampires in less than six seconds. What are you afraid of me for?"

Warlow almost smiles at that.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Then why won't you let me see your face?"

At first, Warlow doesn't respond.

He doesn't move.

Neither does she.

They just stand there, staring at each other. 

Finally, he takes a deep breath, and steps forward.

Part of him is expecting her to either cringe in revulsion or to recoil in fear.

But instead, she simply studies him.

No revulsion. No judgement. 

_A little fear?_

Perhaps. But not enough for it to hide the awe and amazement in her eyes.

_...as if she sees something that she nearly recognizes._  

After she takes in his features, she looks straight into his eyes.

And without uttering a single word out loud, she speaks to him.

_"Who are you?... What is your name?"_

 

 


	2. So... Friends?

 

 

 

For a brief moment, Warlow is too surprised to respond.

It's not as if he hasn't ever met a Halfling before; he's known several over the years, though they were few and far between.

Human/Faerie hybrids are not common, and not easy to find.

It's one of the reasons his deteriorated relationship with the Stackhouse family has affected him so deeply. 

For Warlow, Halflings are reminders of the side of himself that he desperately clings onto. 

_After all, he was a Faerie before he ever became a monster._

Looking at the young Halfling standing in front of him, Warlow suddenly becomes surprisingly self-conscious of the blood covering his face that is quickly drying. 

His eyes drop away from hers.

As he turns to head back to the lake, she stops him again.

_"Please. Why won't you tell me your name?"_

Warlow ponders this before turning back to face her.

There is something in her expression, an almost desperate eagerness that intrigues him. 

Finally, he chooses to answer her.

_"It's Ben... Ben Flynn."_

She almost smiles at him, her curiosity nearly overpowering her nervousness.

_"I'm Malia, Malia Dameron."_

They stand in silence again, neither of them really sure what to say next.

_"So... you're a Halfling? Like me?"_

As much as Warlow wishes that was the truth, he responds with a lie. Or rather, a half-lie.

_"Yeah... something like that."_

Malia tilts her head slightly and bites her bottom lip, clearly unsatisfied with his answer, yet she decides to leave it alone.

Seemingly sensing his growing discomfort, she changes the subject.

_"Well, let's go get you cleaned up. The lake's not far."_

_"I'll be alright, you should head back home."_

But she stands her ground, giving him a determined look.

Warlow sighs.

_'Well then, it seems she's coming with me...'_

 

 

They walk in silence till they reach the lake.

By now the sky is getting lighter, the sun should be rising in just a few minuets.

As Warlow bends down and begins to wash off his face and hands, he can't help but wonder at Malia's curiosity.

She just witnessed him kill three vampires (tearing off the head of one of them), and yet she doesn't seem afraid of him.

Apprehensive maybe, but not necessarily afraid.

There have been a rare few people in his long life that he hasn't frightened away.

_Maybe it's because she thinks that he's like her; merely a Halfling._

_Or perhaps she's guessed who he is._

_Even though she hadn't see his fangs, the blood covering his face wasn't very subtle..._

There's always been a part of him that wishes he could be honest with people about who he is, but history has taught him otherwise.

The few times in his life when he had taken the chance and revealed his true identity, it had always come back around to hurt him.

And it always ended up hurting the people that he had allowed himself to care about.

Always.

But his thoughts are interrupted by Malia, who has now chosen to speak out loud.

"Are you from around here?"

Warlow removes his jacket and blood-stained shirt.

"No, I'm not."

Finding a clean spot, Warlow uses the shirt to dry off his face and neck.

As he does this, he notices Malia watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

For a moment her eyes linger on his broad, muscular chest and shoulders and then slowly make their way down to his taut abdomen.

Warlow pretends not to notice, but he can't help the small smirk that betrays him.

Malia quickly looks away, her deepening rosy cheeks revealing her embarrassment. 

Now dry, Warlow pulls his jacket back on just as the sun starts to peek over the horizon.

Malia seems to observe this with interest, her eyes darting back and forth between the sunrise and Warlow.

But he simply stands there with his hands in his pockets, watching the light shine over the lake.

After a moment, Malia seems to decide on something, and turns to him.

"So, you hungry?"

The question is so random, it almost confuses him.

He looks at her, one eyebrow raised.

Malia smiles, the first smile she's shown him, and it somehow manages to make her even more beautiful. 

"You saved my life Ben", she states plainly, "the least I can do is buy you some breakfast."

 

 

It took some convincing, but Warlow finally accepted and now here he was; sitting in a small diner eating breakfast with a stranger. 

A stranger who just so happened to be a Halfling.

At 5:53 a.m., they had been the only two people in the diner save for one old man sitting alone in a booth in the back corner.

Malia had insisted on Warlow ordering whatever he wanted, her treat; her way of thanking him.

The meal was actually quite nice; the food at these family-owned, small town kind of places usually was.

For some strange reason, Warlow found himself pleasantly surprised that Malia was the kind of girl who loved food.

Her plate had nearly been as full of eggs, bacon and grilled vegetables as his, and she had managed to eat every last bite.

Now they just sat at the counter slowly drinking coffee as the diner started to fill up with more customers.

It is now closer to 7:00 a.m.

As Warlow takes another sip of his coffee, Malia crosses her arms on the counter.

"So what brings you to Portland?"

"The scenery. I've always liked it here and it's been a while since I've spent time in the area."

_At least that's a question that he can answer honestly._

"I assume the climate here is more similar to the weather where you're from."

Warlow gives her a sideways look.

"You mean because of the accent?"

"Yeah. I mean, I assumed that you were at least raised in England since your accent is so strong."

"Well, yes I was raised in England. I spent most of my life there, but I've moved around a lot since then. I'm a bit of a nomad."

"Me too."

Now it's Warlow's turn to ask a question.

"Where have you been to?"

Malia signals the waitress for a coffee refill.

"Well, I was actually born in Hawaii, lived there for about six years and then we moved to New York for my dad's work.", she drops her voice a bit, "I was not happy about it. I was such a brat and complained the entire time about leaving."

"I can't really blame you, Hawaii is beautiful."

Malia's eyes brighten. "You've been there too?"

Nodding, he replies, "Yes, a long time ago."

"Well yeah, it is beautiful... but after a while, I learned to appreciate New York."

She grows suddenly quiet.

Warlow glances at her and notices her staring into her cup.

Her lips are pursed together and her brows are slightly furrowed.

Lowering his voice, Warlow turns his head towards her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

Malia shakes her head.

"No, no. It's fine. Just got caught up in memories for a second."

She clears her throat and continues.

"We lived there for close to eight years... and after that just kinda... kept moving around."

She took another sip of her coffee.

"Sadly, I've only been out of the country once. I got to spend a couple of weeks in Germany with some friends. I loved it and I've always wanted to go visit Europe again, I just haven't been able to get around to it."

"Why not?"

Malia takes a minute to think before answering.

"Oh, I don't know... college, work. I just haven't found the time."

Warlow nods. 

_Time._

_At nearly five thousand five hundred years old, he's always had nothing but time._  

 

 

They sit quietly as they finish their coffee.

Once they finish, make their way outside and begin walking towards Malia's car, Warlow decides to break the silence.

"I'm just curious. Why were you out running so early in the morning?"

"Well," Malia replies as she climbs into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, " to be honest, I've been having a hard time sleeping lately."

She pulls out of the parking lot and heads down the road towards the motel.

"Is that always your solution for insomnia?"

 Malia rolls her eyes.

"No. But sometimes, it does help."

"You suffer from insomnia often?"

"Not often, just occasionally."

Reflecting on this, Warlow rolls down the passenger side window and takes a deep breath of the fresh summer air as it rolls over him like a wave. Malia does the same.

As they continue down the road she states cautiously, "Personal question..."

Warlow studies her for a moment, then nods for her to continue. 

"How old are you?"

Smirking, Warlow replies, "Isn't that usually considered a rude question?"

"Only when asked to women.", Malia sarcastically retorts. 

Warlow chuckles. 

"I'm thirty-five."

"I figured you were in your mid-thirties."

"What about you?... Mid-twenties?"

Malia smiles. "Very good. I'll be twenty-six next week."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

As they arrive at the motel and pull into the parking lot, Warlow thanks Malia for the breakfast.

"Not at all." she replies, "Thanks for saving my life."

Warlow simply smiles.

He climbs out of the car and begins to make his way to the motel door, when he hears Malia call out to him.

"Ben, wait!"

He turns and looks at her questioningly. 

Malia's chewing on her bottom lip again, he notices that she seems to do this when she's uncertain.

"How long are you gonna be in town for?"

In all honesty, Warlow isn't sure, he hasn't really planned it out.

"I don't know yet. Maybe a couple of weeks."

"So, I guess I'll see you around then?"

Usually, this would be the point where Warlow would cut contact and soon after, leave town. He generally didn't make connections or form friendships with very many people, especially if they could possibly be a liability for him. But there is something holding him back this time, something is different, and for the first time in a long time he doesn't feel the instinctual need to pull away, to separate himself. For the first time in a long time, he finds himself wanting to stay.

By now, Warlow has acknowledged the fact that he and Malia are drawn to each other, there's no denying that. 

It's subtle, but it's there; an underlying mutual attraction that neither of them can explain or fully understand, at least not yet.

He's lived long enough to be able to see things for what they are and even though there's a part of him that knows he shouldn't get attached, the more he looks at her, the more he stares into those deep blue eyes, the more he realizes in his heart that it's already too late for that.

This young woman, this Halfling is somehow managing to get under his skin. 

She's pulling him in, and for once, he's not putting up a fight.

_"You know where to find me."_ , he tells her this with his mind, once again entering that special place between just the two of them.

_"So... friends?"_

He hesitates for a brief moment, then responds honestly.

_"Friends."_

Malia smiles. It's a small smile, but it does the trick and Warlow smiles back.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, any tips or advice would be greatly appreciated. Thanks for taking the time to read this!

**Author's Note:**

> Advice and opinions are greatly appreciated. I haven't written much before, so please be kind.


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